


Heat, Unexpected

by Thymesis



Series: Star Wars Rare Pairs Collection (NC-17) [13]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alien/Human Relationships, Consentacles, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Humor, Lasat, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Pinch Hit Assignment, Star Wars Rare Pairs Exchange 2017, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-01 04:02:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12696930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thymesis/pseuds/Thymesis
Summary: “Is it just me, or do you smell even worse than usual?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda sorta but not really based on the following prompt: 
> 
> Zeb’s in rut and Ezra thinks teasing him is the best thing ever, until he realizes he’s taken it a little too far and he really wants to follow through.

_Day 1_

“Is it just me, or do you smell even worse than usual?”

The slight wasn’t strictly true, of course. Zeb’s distinctive Lasat odor used to drive Ezra lothfever crazy, but not anymore. After a year of bunking together on the Ghost, with Zeb the first thing he smelled when he awakened in each morning and the last thing he smelled when he fell asleep each night, he’d gotten used to it. Nowadays, he barely noticed it at all. In fact, if anything, Zeb’s odor had become inextricably associated with the safety and comforts of home.

Something about it _was_ different, though. Ezra couldn’t have described the change in words, not even for all the credits in the Empire, but there was no question in his mind that The Smell _had_ changed somehow. And that, combined with Zeb’s obstinate refusal to leave his bunk today, was worth a bit of good-natured ribbing.

Unfortunately, Zeb wasn’t in the mood for jokes. He merely rolled over on the bunk, turning his back to the door, and growled, “Go away, Ezra.”

Ezra did. For a little while, at least.

 

_Day 2_

Ezra was in a bad mood. Zeb had banned him from their shared room last night. Ezra had been forced to bed down with Kanan for the night and had hardly managed any shut-eye whatsoever. He’d missed his own bed…and weirdly, he’d missed Zeb. He’d missed the snoring. To be honest, he’d even missed The Smell. And besides, sleeping in the same room as one’s Jedi Master was just plain _weird_.

“Look, you’ve been in bed all day,” Ezra began tentatively as he peered into their darkened room at the indistinct, vaguely Lasat-shaped lump that was huddling in the lower bunk beneath at least four layers of blankets. Was Zeb even awake? Ezra couldn’t see his face. “If you’re sick, maybe we should—”

“I’m not sick. _Go_. _Away_.” The Lasat-shaped lump pulled itself in tighter. Now it looked like a Lasat- _ball_.

Ezra’s nose wrinkled. The Smell, well, maybe he should call it “The New Smell,” had become more intense since yesterday. That was leading him to believe that whatever was wrong with Zeb was getting worse, not better. This could be serious, and if it was serious, Ezra wasn’t going to say—or do—anything mean.

“Okay, Zeb, okay. Just let me know if you need anything,” he said softly as he retreated from their room once more.

Zeb didn’t deign to reply.

***

Ezra headed straight for the Ghost’s common room, where Kanan and Sabine were engrossed in a game of dejarik. Chopper appeared to be refereeing, and Sabine was definitely winning.

“You’re finished!” she crowed as her Rancor devoured Kanan’s Gundark. It started with the head.

“Hmm.” Kanan examined the board for many minutes before advancing his Mantellian Savrip one space.

Chopper made a series of low-pitched noises that sounded like laughter.

Ezra cleared his throat pointedly.

“What, Ezra,” Kanan said flatly, not bothering to look up from the dejarik board.

“There’s something really wrong with Zeb.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Zeb. Leave him in peace.”

“But Kanan—!”

“ _Ezra._ ” Finally, Kanan was looking directly at him and not at the game. It did not seem like he appreciated the interruption. “Three days ago, as you well know, Zeb made the decision not to remain on his people’s ancestral homeworld. Instead, he is returning with us and continuing our fight against Palpatine’s tyranny. That was not an easy choice, especially after having visited Lira San. It’s a bit like losing the Lasat all over again, and I’m sure he’s grieving, in his way. Please respect his wishes.”

“But I don’t think we should just—” Ezra began.

“Yeah, Ezra,” Sabine interrupted, chiming in. Her expression seemed almost judgmental, harsh. “ _You_ of all people ought to understand how hard it is to feel like you’re losing your family a second time.”

Chopper rocked back and forth and made noises of agreement.

Ezra winced. He _did_ know what it was like to lose his family, and his heart ached for Zeb. But if this is what Zeb truly wanted…

He said nothing further and left Kanan and Sabine to their dejarik. Maybe he’d go ask Hera if she needed help with the sublight engine repairs instead. Since he hadn’t been summoned already, she probably didn’t, but he thought he’d ask anyway.

 

_Day 3_

“Umm…Zeb…”

“No.”

“But—”

“No.”

Ezra sighed with undisguised dismay. No, he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to stand _another_ night with Kanan!

 

_Day 4_

After four days confined to quarters, The New Smell was almost overpowering. Ezra ignored it, as well as the unintelligible but decidedly unwelcoming snarls issue from the Lasat-shaped lump of blankets, and sat down cross-legged on the floor, facing about where he guessed Zeb’s knees would be.

“Zeb.”

He waited, counting to one-hundred in his head.

No reply.

Oh, never mind the damn smell; he was getting used to it now, and it wasn’t _that_ bad. Ezra took a deep, steadying breath and launched into the speech he’d prepared:

“I’m worried about you, Zeb. This isn’t like you. You’ve never hidden yourself away from the bad stuff, no matter how bad it got. You’ve always faced it head on, and I admire that. But what you’re doing now—it makes me wonder. Do you really think you made the right decision to leave Lira San? You were a member of the Honor Guard of Lasan. Your whole life was dedicated to the protection of your people. Maybe these regrets you’re feeling should be telling you something. Maybe you should listen to them. None of us would blame you if you change your mind. We would all support your decision to—”  

Suddenly, something shot out from underneath Zeb’s blankets and curled itself around Ezra’s upper arm. It was slimy, serpentine, and most definitely _alive_.

Ezra shrieked liked a girl, shook that terrifying…thing…off, and crab-walked backwards faster than he would have believed physiologically possible into the farthest corner of the room.

The…thing…which, from a slightly less up close and personal point of view, looked for all the galaxy exactly like a tentacle made of raw meat, was waving forlorn circles in Ezra’s direction. Surely it was ridiculous to think so, but it was almost like it was disappointed by the rejection!

“ _Karabast!_ ” One of Zeb’s hands emerged to grab that writhing raw meat tentacle and wrestle it back underneath the blankets. Although it seemed to put up a bit of fight, twisting and twining and constricting to the best of its ability, Zeb’s hand was eventually the victor.

“Zeb?! W-what was _that_?!” Ezra yelled. He didn’t bother hiding how appalled he was from his voice. And, ugh, the thing had left a giant wet spot on his sleeve.

Zeb didn’t answer. However, for the first time in a very long time, the blankets had been moved aside enough that Erza could see Zeb’s face—and it looked absolutely terrible. His fur was unkempt and matted and sticking up in odd places, and the black pupils of his eyes were so hugely dilated that hardly any of the customary yellow-green was visible. He was panting, but he was obviously lucid.

“What. Was. That.” Ezra repeated.

He wasn’t really expecting any more answers than he’d already gotten, so he was stunned when Zeb actually started to speak.

“You don’t get it. It’s not— I thought I’d never—” Zeb’s voice was creaky and hoarse from disuse. Fortunately, the meaning was clear enough as he continued. “I thought I was _too old_. But being with so many Lasat, after all this time, it triggered—” Zeb paused. It was a tortured, pregnant pause.

“I’ve gone into heat, Ezra.”

 

TO BE CONTINUED


	2. Chapter 2

_Day 4 (continued)_

“H-heat?” Ezra echoed, dumbfounded.

“Yes,” Zeb groaned, “and it’s impossible to relieve the worst of the symptoms without a suitable partner.”

A “suitable partner”…? What did— Waitaminute, did he mean—?

“D-does…does going ‘into heat’ have something to do with sex?”

Zeb snarled, but his heart wasn’t in it. “Obviously it has to do with sex! Now be the adult you like to insist you are and do me the courtesy of _going away_!!”

Ezra blinked but otherwise remained in his corner, thinking too deeply at this particular moment to vacate the premises immediately yet again. Well, he told himself, at least this meant that Zeb wasn’t sick or grieving. That was a relief. It didn’t mean that he wasn’t suffering, though. But Ezra supposed that it did explain The New Smell. Oh, and that raw meat tentacle too, that must have been—

Yeah, riiiiiiiight.

Ezra could feel his cheeks flushing hotly.

“I’m so sorry, Zeb. I didn’t realize. I hope you feel better. I’ll, uhh, I’ll be going now,” he said as he got to his feet and fled.

 

_Day 5_

Ezra was not particularly surprised to learn, after a _fourth_ uncomfortable night on Kanan’s bottom bunk, that Zeb was still sequestered in their (formerly) shared room.

Nevertheless, it had taken him the better part of a boring day spent mopping out the Ghost’s cargo hold to muster the courage to try speaking to Zeb. Even if Ezra wasn’t a “suitable” partner, he and Zeb had in fact been partners of a close, albeit different, sort, and he figured he ought to do something to try to relieve Zeb’s suffering. If was the least he could do…and it couldn’t hurt to try, right?

So that was how Ezra was rationalizing his actions to himself as he entered their room once more, armed with a thickly-bristled hairbrush pilfered from Sabine’s stash of personal care items.

Underneath his blanket fortress, Zeb was snoring. That was a first. He’d always been awake—and short-tempered and miserable—whenever Ezra had checked in before. He must have been exhausted, Ezra realized with a sharp stab of pity through his gut. And now he was wondering if perhaps it wouldn’t be best for both of them if he beat a hasty retreat and, as Kanan would say, leave Zeb in peace.

But no. He’d come in here on a mission, and if Zeb was asleep, all the better. Besides, if he were honest, Ezra didn’t think Zeb would allow him to do this if he were conscious.

Quietly, Ezra approached the Lasat-shaped ball of blankets, standing by the head and not the knees this time, and slowly, sloooooooowly eased the blankets down off of Zeb’s face.

Yup, definitely asleep. And as Ezra had presupposed, the striped lavender pelt was in worse condition than ever. Poor, poor Zeb. He normally took such good care of himself.

With infinite gentleness, Ezra began to brush.

After the face was done and Zeb didn’t wake up, Ezra decided to keep going, pushing the blankets aside as he went. Zeb was sleeping unclothed, as was his custom, and that made brushing easy. Zeb was practically purring. Yet even through that soft, insulating pelt of fur, Ezra could feel how fevered he was, hot as a doonium ore smelting furnace. Going into heat also meant radiating literal _heat_ , apparently. Poor, poor Zeb.

Eventually, of course, Ezra’s damnable curiosity got the better of him: He wanted to see _it_ again. Fast, before he could second-guess himself, he pushed the blankets all the way down past Zeb’s ankles.

And what he saw between Zeb’s legs was shocking. There wasn’t just one raw meat tentacle rising from an aperture at the tip of the modest, oval-shaped flap of striped flesh Ezra had always assumed was Zeb’s flaccid penis. There were _two of them_.

Despite the strangeness of this revelation, the raw meat tentacles were, upon proper, close inspection, no more frightening to Ezra than his own erect penis. Individually, in fact, the penises—and that’s clearly what they were—were of similar girth…albeit more than a third greater in length than he was. And, yes, they were moving of their own accord even while Zeb slept, seemingly at random, twisting, lifting, falling, waving, undulating, and occasionally spiraling around each other like partners in an erotic, hypnotic dance.

Ezra was touching them before he was even conscious of doing so, and they seemed to welcome his hand, wrapping themselves sweetly around it and pushing into his tentative strokes and caresses like a tame lothcat that wanted to be petted more. Ezra was about to comply…

…when he realized that Zeb was awake. Zeb’s body was positively vibrating with tension, his mobile prick ears were pinned back against his head, and the only word to describe his facial expression was, well, terrified.

“I think…I think they like me?” Ezra tried with a forced, lopsided grin.

It was true. Zeb’s penises were batting at Ezra’s hand, rubbing themselves against his flesh, as if to remind him to pay attention to them.

“They’d take a Wookiee if they could have one,” Zeb growled tightly. He was seconds away from losing control, and they both knew it.

Ezra was not afraid.

There were lots of things Ezra had never told the Ghost crew about his past, and this was one of them: Ezra was not a virgin. He’d been combining petty thievery with prostitution for years. Male or female, Human, near-Human, or non-Human—it didn’t matter. If their credits were good, he’d have a romp with any of them.

He’d never had a Lasat, though, and he was becoming hard at the imminent prospect. It would be quite the experience.

“I’m not a Wookiee,” Ezra pointed out, “but I’m what’s available.”

Ezra was out of his pants and on his hands and knees on the floor before Zeb could find the language to protest. He spread his legs wide and displayed his anus, the sphincter muscle alternately fluttering and gaping with anticipation of the pleasures of intercourse.

He had been half-expecting Zeb to launch into further protest, but Zeb said nothing. In an instant, Ezra was engulfed in soft fur, warmth, and The New Smell, and there was a hot, slick, questing penis squeezing the base of his scrotum and twining around his aching erection while a second prodded for entry and pushed into him in a single, soul-deep slide to the hilt that stole Ezra’s breath.

Zeb did not thrust because he did not need to. Inside Ezra, he was everywhere, a thousand different writhing, blindly seeking movements that palpitated him in ways he couldn’t have imagined. He was leaking copiously onto the floor. And all the while, Zeb’s second penis was tugging on him, and that made everything exquisite, perfect. Under any other circumstances Ezra would have been grinding into the simulation from both front and rear, and thrashing, but Zeb’s big body held him motionless so that he could only keen as the pleasure mounted.

Ezra didn’t last long. He was too young, and this was too intense. The orgasm, when it finally hit, was enormous, like a starship launching into hyperspace, and he ground his teeth and tried not to scream as his muscles clamped down and semen began to fountain out of him in endless, gut-clenching pulses.

But even after what seemed an eternity of orgasm, Zeb wasn’t close to being done, and Ezra, rubbery with the shock of release, felt himself being lifted, placed tenderly on the bed, and turned onto his back, still joined. Zeb’s passion-dilated eyes were so beautiful, holding Ezra’s gaze as he lowered his head to nuzzle affectionately against Erza’s cheek.

When that second penis slid inside to join the first, Ezra knew he was in love.

 

_Day 10_

Hera was outside their door.

“Ezra, Zeb? This is getting ridiculous! You can’t just stay in there forever—we have a job to do, remember?!” Hera shouted through the thick durasteel plating.

“ _Go away!_ ” Ezra and Zeb both shouted back in unison.

Needless to say, they didn’t want to be disturbed.

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written as a pinch hit assignment for [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/DuaeCat/profile)[**DuaeCat**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/DuaeCat/). Posted to the exchange on November 12 and 13, 2017. Refused on or around March 5, 2018 (original deleted comment [here](https://imgur.com/ByWW2xb)).


End file.
